a dreamer dreams, she never dies

On any other day, standing by the window at 2am is something I will never do. I am generally afraid of the dark and it creeps me out to be standing in the dark by an opening that ends at my waist. I think if I had put all my weight forward I would have easily fallen to death. But on the wee hours of a Friday morning I find myself spending a good 10 minutes by the window looking up at the orange skies and feeling the icy wind in my face. Being a timid person, half of me is afraid of the surroundings I've put myself in while the other half just want to lay my mattress beside the full length window in the living room so I can sleep beside this view all night. The movement of the sparse and thin clouds stirring in their own patternless fashion across the vastness of the sky beckoning the rain was oddly captivating. For a moment they look more like smoke or haze and not clouds. I wonder how many nights with a view like this have I missed out, and if the people inhabiting the couple of apartments, still well-lit at this hour, are enjoying this as much as I am. Only when night falls when the whole world climb into their sheets to snooze can these sights and sounds be taken in in its entirety. When I first moved to this neighborhood a decade ago, the trees were just slightly taller than me, fragile and brittle-looking. Today they stand dark and massive, their crowns reaching my apartment on the 5th storey, so thick that I can barely see the playground some 50 metres away, so dense that whenever the tree shakes, I mistake the collective rustling of its leaves as the sound of falling rain. Silly as it sounds, I do feel a little proud whenever I see how strong and majestic they have become. After all, they're the only things (albeit non-living) that I've seen grow over a decade. 10 years. Been a long time. This place must have seen at least 4 coats of paint. The first shower arrives and I instinctively reached my arm out to feel the raindrops on the palm of my hand. It is a beautiful night and my job's done here. May the orange hues never retreat even after I drift off to a state of slumber.

People change once they know you are going to stay, it's true.

We toasted to yet another successful refresh planned by Program. We bid goodbye to the month of March. We say hello to the month of April. This month has one of my last milestones in TP. The camp of we have all been gearing up for since last September and the same one that has shaped me to become the person I am today over 3 years. Next week we watch all of it end. Someday I will look back at this and see that it is nothing more than a school camp. But because of the amazing people I have met, the foreign feelings I've experienced and the countless lessons about life I have taken, I know all of it will fade into a beautiful memory that I've made a fair bit of sacrifice for. I quote a certain somebody who has spoken at the squash court on the morning of 29 March, 2012: "This is something all of us can never let go, it will stay with us even after we leave."

The first week of liberation. Between submitting university applications and reuniting with my 3.1 groupmates @ chomp chomp, and i also succumbed to peer pressure by letting two of my best girlfriends talk me into butter factory. For the record, I was just this close to graduating without having clubbed even once. But it was one hell of a good time partying in celebration of the end of the dreadful research paper. I now discover the power of a post-club comatose. It's pretty damn song. Graduation awaits, but between now and May i'll be going to school a lot to work on the final lap that builds up to FO in April. I will miss this girl a lot after she migrates to Sydney. UNLV please accept her so she can stay here for another 2 years! Meanwhile, hope the big guy up there can hear my plea and grant me an admission to a local university. Also, hope everybody is having a good February like I am. Cheers!

Miss the feeling of being up there with the roaring energy from the audience. No school does a camp better than TP, and no camp is better done than FO. I hardly have to wonder how it'll be like to leave this all behind cos it will clearly be painful. But between now and then, all I have on my mind is to continue building a bloody good program comm. My schoolmates never seem to understand the relationship I share with FO and the people, things, experiences it entails. Contrary to their belief, FO is not just a stupid orientation camp to welcome freshies. Here, people are built to be better persons. Limits are challenged. New experiences. Friends are found. People discover things about themselves that they would not have otherwise did anywhere else. What TPFO is today is attributed to the success of our seniors. It's a legacy. It is a sign and testament that we have been inspired and we want to go on to inspire. Senior year is coming to an end and FO will be over sooner than I can ever imagine. Here's my one last shot at making everything right and bringing it all back. I am a programmer. Te Gathering, Tezomnia, Tecaravan. It all ends here.

Hi. This is my room.


Greets me every morning.



Photographs of the people and things I care about most.


Childhood photographs / Butter cookies tin / Sailor legoman in a candy jar / Wine bottle / Stationery in a glass jar


Workstation: My paintings / Audrey Hepburn postcard / Zouk brochure / Galaxy Projector